


did not speak as loud as my heart

by hexereii



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse)
Genre: Affection, Awkward Conversations, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Constipation, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:48:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22262866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexereii/pseuds/hexereii
Summary: College era: assumes a pre-existing relationship for fluff purposes.Reed and Victor have fallen into an unlikely-but-comfortable routine with each other and have so far opted not to examine what they're doing. Or feeling.So what happens when the subject comes up?
Relationships: Reed Richards/Victor von Doom
Comments: 7
Kudos: 51





	did not speak as loud as my heart

**T** he battered leather sofa perched at the center of their shared room wasn't really large enough to fit them both, but that had never stopped them before; tonight was no different. Reed sat at one end with his headphones on, portable CD player skimming through an old jazz track while he further considered a series of equations left scrawled across the whiteboard on the far wall. Victor sprawled comfortably on his back across both seats, long legs dangling over the armrest and his head in Reed's lap. He held a book in one hand, just above his face. 

Neither of them had spoken a word in the past forty-five minutes at least; the only sounds were the faint, tinny warbles of music and the rapid flick of pages turning. Victor didn't so much read books as devour them, Reed reflected--a trait they shared, but it was still interesting to watch that from the outside.

The longer he stared the greater the pull became, as always, away from mathematics and the improvisational genius of Miles Davis and nearer to other, more Earthly wonders instead. To the texture of Victor's dark brown curls between his fingers and the way his lips quirked up at one corner whenever something he'd read stirred a thought, the way he almost looked peaceful from this angle if you squinted just a bit.

Lettering along the book's spine spelled out something in a language Reed recognized but didn't speak--yet--it bore some resemblance to Hungarian, but since he didn't know that one either... Well... Later, he decided. At some point further along. Victor had a gift for languages that he didn't quite share--no, that wasn't entirely true. It was just that his relentless quest for knowledge _required_ more linguistic flexibility. He wasn't going to let something as simple as a language barrier come between him and whatever information he deemed necessary.

Stroking a thumb absently across Victor's forehead, Reed gave in to a familiar source of worry: that there would inevitably come a day when no university in the world could keep that mind occupied or satisfy his endless need to _know_. To pull the whole universe apart and see what made it tick, or--more likely--to find that there was simply not enough information in this reality to hold him anchored firmly here at all. The thought of all that brilliance turned inward, unraveling itself... Reed felt a familiar surge of fear for his friend, but if it really came down to it, what could he do?

What, if anything, would Victor allow him to do, that was the real question, wasn't it?

Shutting off the player with a click, Reed slid it aside and closed his eyes, listening instead to the slow, steady breaths and the rhythmic _shush_ of turned pages. Moments like this were rare--periods of serenity between alternating clashes of ego when they disagreed and the shared frenetic energy when they were somehow perfectly in sync. There was never any clear sense of who had initiated it, they had simply drifted into their own inner worlds and ended up physically together--pulled into each other's orbit through natural force.

Usually, they emerged from their respective trances to separate again and work on private projects, though once or twice recently, Victor had surprised him with a kiss or a soft touch--things had gotten more exploratory from there, though always with gentle caution and never with any sense of full engagement on his lover's part. He seemed always to hold something back, and Reed was never sure why (was it shame? uncertainty? he'd never seemed particularly shy or uncertain at the time, only curious and oddly detached) ...Victor was a puzzle he couldn't seem to solve.

(He was very much in danger of falling in love with an enigmatic, self-absorbed jackass who was, realistically, far too attractive to be anything but out of his league. The thought didn't trouble him terribly much; it was a bit like a rollercoaster dipping abruptly, leaving him with no clear sense of up or down. Von Doom had that effect on a lot of people, he suspected.)

"Victor, I've been thinking."

"Hm?" Reed had learned to interpret almost every form of that vocalization by now. This one translated on the surface level to: "Have you?" Though realistically, it was more like: _"If this isn't more interesting than my book, I'm going to ignore it."_

He paused. Maybe this wasn’t the best possible moment, maybe he should wait for a better one… but that might be a very long wait indeed, and Victor wasn't the only one who liked to _know_ things.

“Well, ‘wondering’ might be more accurate–how would you define our relationship?"

Victor halted in the act of turning another page; for a half-second, just long enough that Reed knew he hadn’t imagined it, he seemed to vacillate.

“We are… roommates,” he said evasively. “We share living quarters, lab space…”

Reed smiled slowly, though not unkindly.

“...And a bed, occasionally?” He added.

The book lifted higher, concealing Victor’s expression; he gave no response, but Reed could feel the tension in his neck and shoulders.

As much as he wanted to pursue this line of inquiry, pressing Victor to discuss anything private, anything personal... that always ran the risk of pushing him away.

His lover spoke softly from behind pinned pages: “Are you uncomfortable with this arrangement?”

That wasn’t what he’d meant at all; did Victor really suspect that, or was he trying to be deliberately off-putting just to avoid the entire conversation? _Was_ he uncomfortable with it? He didn’t like keeping their relationship a secret, but… there were risks in doing otherwise. Risks they had mutually decided were not worth taking unless this developed into something considerably more than it was.

“No,” he said with certainty, his fingers returning to Victor’s hair again as he felt a little of the tension ease. “No,” he repeated, “…But what do we actually know about each other?”

Long, sinewy arms dropped in exasperated defeat, taking the book with them. Clearly, he wasn’t going to finish it tonight anyway.

“What subject have we _not_ touched on yet?” The irritation in his tone didn’t quite match his expression; he was annoyed, but still fully willing to play along. “We’ve debated everything from Socrates to Leibniz, you know my political opinions, my economic philosophy, we’ve argued game theory, astrophysics, quantum mechanics, theology…”

Reed met his indignation with its equal in tone: “I don’t even know what your favorite _color_ is."

Scowling upward, Victor was baffled by the frivolity of the point. What did that have to do with _anything?_

“Blue,” he snapped. The color of the Earth from space; of the oceans between Latveria and this new life, this new start. A color he now associated firmly with Reed–though that wasn’t why he chose it, of course. “And I suppose you expect me to ask next what yours is?”

“"It's green, thank you.” Reed was smiling again; thinking of forests he’d never seen and a world lush with possibilities–though also of certain acids and deadly toxins. Both were equally linked in his mind with Victor, but he'd always been partial to it, really. “Favorite musician?”

“…I’ve given it no thought.”

“Of course not. But I’ve noticed you listen to Beethoven when you’re frustrated. I think it calms you.”

Victor gave no reply; lying on his back with the book on his chest, staring up into Reed’s eyes, an odd feeling stirred: pleasant surprise that someone understood this about him. That he had noticed and considered and genuinely seen, without judgment or question, some part of him that others were not privy to. Reaching up, he brushed the tips of his fingers across Reed’s cheek, compelled to make some kind of contact even if he didn’t entirely know why.

“It appears that we _do_ know something of each other, then,” he said quietly.

He wouldn’t put the feeling into words, not even in his mind. Naming a thing like this would only give it power, and then what? Better to let go now, to sit up, to put cold distance between them–

“Victor?”

–one snapped insult was all it would take to reset the moment, reverse whatever intimacy had just been introduced–

He felt exposed, heart racing and thoughts jumbled and something like homesickness twisting in his stomach. If he looked at Reed now, he’d be turned to stone.

But if he didn’t do _something_ , he was the worst kind of coward for it--and more than that, a fool.

Victor moved before he could think any further, hands gripping Reed’s shoulders almost hard enough to hurt as he pressed him back onto the couch, their lips together and his eyes firmly closed. The kiss went on for as long as he could manage; not his usual demanding mixture of soft bites and violent clashes but something desperate and altogether new instead.

For the first time, he kissed Reed as though it were more than an experiment in human mating habits. He kissed him like he _meant_ it.

The breath he drew in afterward was shaky, one hand sliding upward along Reed’s neck to the curve of his jaw, holding his face still. And Reed, he suddenly realized, had wrapped his free arm around and was twisted hopelessly in the fabric of Victor’s shirt, holding on with fierce determination.

“I do know you," Victor insisted. "Without unnecessary words or small talk–in every way that matters, I know you.” He couldn’t claim that the opposite was true, but that was only to be expected.

"You really are just... _impossibly_ arrogant sometimes.” The tone was weary and soft as Reed relaxed his hold just slightly. “I know you, too–not completely, of course. You shut people out too well for that, but alright, Victor. Alright.” A long pause, as Reed sought Victor’s gaze and met it. They both fell silent; nothing else needed to be said for now.

“Of course, dismissing me as 'arrogant' implies that I feel an _undeserved_ sense of superiority,” Victor eventually pointed out. “The term hardly–”

Whatever Von Doom expected next, the kiss that interrupted his well-considered point clearly wasn’t it.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I used a coldplay lyric for the title.
> 
> Ima be honest here, titles are not really my strong suit.
> 
> As you may have noticed. XD


End file.
